


ii; mr. pennycrumb

by alifetime



Series: catnaps [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Gen, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Just Add Kittens, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Soft Vanya Hargreeves, Therapy cat, Touch-Starved Number Five | The Boy, five gets a cat, five is on the spectrum, honestly all of them are protective of five, implied/referenced ocd, referenced separation anxiety, sensory overloads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifetime/pseuds/alifetime
Summary: What else was Luther supposed to think when instead of Five sitting at the dining table was a tiny, fluffy kitten? He expected Five to be making himself a coffee, not conjure up a cat that he had no sole responsibility for. He had a right-mind to tell Five to give it up for adoption but softened at how the pent-up stress Five carried around was detached as soon as he ran his fingers along the cat’s smooth fur.or; Vanya helps Five adopt an emotional-support kitty.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Allison Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: catnaps [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944823
Comments: 10
Kudos: 186





	ii; mr. pennycrumb

**Author's Note:**

> warning(s): brief descriptions of anxiety and OCD & sensory overload
> 
> -pls forgive me for making mr. pennycrumb a cat. since this isn’t canon, i deem it fine—i see five as an angry little kitten, so giving him a kitten would be perfect. also , sorry if five seems ooc in this. i think writing his and vanya’s characters are the hardest so apologies.

No one said no to a kitten. They had never asked for any pets in their youth, and it wasn’t like their dad to bring up the idea of getting a pet—a guard dog of sorts. They had a mutated monkey for that. (Or, that’s what Five liked to call him at the best of times). That didn’t mean to say none of them had thought about it. Five, upon the earlier return to the land of the living, took a walk with Allison and had stumbled upon a litter of kittens inside of a pet shop. And they were for sale. 

“No.” 

Allison hadn’t been impressed when he had subtly hinted at buying a kit. Muzzling at the window and leaving giant circles of kitten licks across its sheltered cage had Five itchings to take the kit and blink. But he couldn’t think to do such a thing to such a tiny being in an instant, and he wasn’t one to steal in a civilised conversation. 

“It could be my partner.”

“Partner?”

“Yeah, side-kick.” Five tapped the glass of the kitten, light on his fingers, paws on the other side scratching as if saying hello back. “With Delores settling down, I need a replacement.”

“A replacement? —Five, she was a mannequin.”

“And yet we lasted for over 30 years together. How long had you and your husband lasted?”

Allison left him not a minute later. He didn’t care. No apologies would come forth, especially how she had insulted the one person who had remained by his side in a post-apocalyptic for so long; she had been patient, understanding and kind to him when no one else had the chance to be. And now, staring at him with the biggest golden eyes he’d seen was a silver, vibrating ball of fuzz. It was some sort of Maine Coon. 

Swaying on the heels of his feet, he turned to look for the owner of the pet-shop. Hands stuffed deep in his pockets, feeling the hardcover of the debit card he had  stolen borrowed from Allison—he was prepared to take a little companion on. Like Delores, it was love at first sight. This time, the package was tiny, fluffy and vibrating with purrs. 

“Can I help you, young man?”

The lady was old, perhaps as old as he was, and wore a sickeningly sweet, customer-service smile. He tried to be polite and smile back, feet still rocking his body back and forth. He told himself to stop it, but he didn’t have his father around to back-hand him for it—why should he stop the rocking when it somewhat calmed his nerves? Damn, talking to new people was frighteningly inadequate. Following the apocalypse, he spoke with The Handler, a couple of people in the office he had no interest in leading conversation with, and human companions with him on his missions 

_ (whether you like it or not, five, this is not a one-man-job mission) _

that spared him no intelligence like his own. Speaking with everyday-normal people, however, was unnerving and an unsettling gem hit rock bottom within his chest. 

“I would like that kitten—right there.” He turned again so he didn’t have to look at her. “The ugly one.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna need an adult to confirm the payment with I.D.”

He should have expected that. Luckily for him, he was in a state of knowing how child-like he looked currently. Still having yet to give up the uniform as one of his everyday clothes, he looked like he had ditched school for the day rather than posing as a grown-man in business clothes. 

A low hum fixated itself in his throat as he took his hands from his pockets and clicked his fingers in place—a nervous habit that his dad had greatly disapproved of. 

“Was that your mother you were just with? The lady who walked away?”

Talking with this lady was already overwhelming enough; he had no trouble like this in the 60s. At least not this bad—she seemed to be asking too many questions and consistent whimpering of the kits were becoming a constant source of irritation inside his skull. He shouldn’t have said what he said to Allison. If she were still here then perhaps he’d be calmer. 

Without giving the lady an answer, he gazed upon the kitten one more time before heading out. It was becoming too stuffy in there, and the outdoor air made him shiver. 

Someone bumped into him and he flinched back, ready to push them back but already they had vanished into the sea of people among them. 

From the counter, as he turned to look at the kitten again, the lady dared to glare at him. Why? Five wouldn’t have a clue. She must be having a bad day—he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Did she consider him walking out without a word rude? 

Yeah, that was kind of rude of him. 

Swallowing the anxiety, Five stuffed his hands back into his shorts, ready to make his way home. Some part of him wanted Allison to be at the door, arms crossed over her chest with a permanent scowl on her mother-concerned face. Another part of him wanted to avoid Allison at all costs until he dared to face her again; it wasn’t as if he had meant what he said to her. He just hadn’t been thinking—she had no right to insult Delores. 

Aside from that, his mind was fixed upon that pup he had seen. He briefly wondered what the kit’s fur would feel like beneath Five’s fingers. It looked wire-y, long, and smooth. It made his fingers itch; he wanted nothing more than to turn around, blink in and out the shop with a newly vibrating kitten in his arms. But there were downsides to this genius plan: the old lady. Either she could call the police and have him banned from the store, or she could potentially die from a heart attack. (Okay, now it didn’t seem like such a downside at all). The other stumbling block was having Commission back on his ass; they were supposed to be keeping a low-profile, and after a couple of weeks of that, Five was gradually gaining confidence in going outside again without the fear of being shot at. 

In the short walk from the pet-shop to the academy, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes. If he had to be somewhere important, then he would have freaked out, but he had purposely walked as slowly as possible to avoid any confrontation. So he wasn’t surprised to see Allison by the doorway, a very unimpressed look drawn on her face. 

“I’m willing to forgive and forget—”

“That’s terribly generous of you, sis—”

“Now give me back my card.”

Grunting, Five shakily handed her the card, pulling his hand as quickly as possible away from her fingers when they barely grazed each other. He couldn’t even touch people without needing to subliminally scratch his skin raw. The last time he had purposely touched Allison was that of a rigor mortis’ frozen corpse. 

“Where’s Vanya?” 

“Home.”

Five almost forgot that all of them (well, apart from him and Luther) had their own homes to live in. If Vanya was paying the bills, then she had to sleep there. Yet it had the beginnings of uneasiness settled in again. And though he would never admit it, there was another part of him that was glad Vanya wasn’t there—after almost destroying the planet twice and holding Five in the depths of her powers once (and almost twice), he was afraid of her. 

In a state to calm himself down, he suppressed the urge to wring his hands and pocketed them, straining from the rocking and humming. Again, it wasn’t like he had anything to do today apart from scrub the chalk-ridden walls in his room and wallow in fear about the Commission, so he didn’t  _ need _ to see Vanya. He couldn’t just blink to her apartment either because she may not be there—what if the Commission had gotten her? How was he supposed to check if she was alive at night? With one sibling down, he need only check Luther’s, Allison’s, Diego’s and Klaus’ pulses. The thrum on their wrists always seized to calm him down, and without that extra comfort of knowing Vanya was okay and handling her powers in a stable manner that Reginald was too cowardly to do, he didn’t think he would be able to sleep in peace tonight. 

“Five.”

Allison was in front of him, brown eyes glazing with a sense of motherly-habitual concern. 

“You with me, bud?”

“Vanya coming back tonight?”

Allison smiled slightly. “No, she’ll be back again tomorrow. We have some paperwork to sort out regarding Dad’s death.”

“Whatever you say, but I’ll be concerned about other things like, oh! —I don’t know! —Commission, the potential threat of another apocalypse’s thanks to Diego’s girlfriend!?”

“Breathe—hey, Five, calm down…”

His fingers itched to touch something _ —anything— _ like the fur of that kit. Something about needing to feel the soft inhumanly dense fur was unnerving. He couldn’t touch human skin yet—it was too much and too soon. 

“Five—”

“I’m calm!” he snapped, smacking Allison’s offering hand away. The fire in his skin was almost ignited by that one touch and he ducked his head, wanting to pull at his hair. He couldn’t—not in front of Allison. Not in front of anyone. Reginald, though dead, would surely haunt him until those little habits of his were gone. He had gone through enough meltdowns in the apocalypse, and he didn’t need to take more advantage of their father’s teetering disappointment. 

Avoiding more of Allison’s questioning splutters, he blinked from the hall to his room. It wouldn’t surprise him if they remembered the little meltdowns he used to have when they were kids. Pogo or Grace would be quick to pull him away from them if he started in training or at the dining table. (In their dad’s words,  _ “Your siblings needn’t be tainted by your childish tantrums, Number Five.” _ ). Sometimes, though, when neither Grace, Pogo or their father were around and the anxiety and stress would build and build, it was either Vanya, Klaus or Ben to help calm him. Vanya would hum to him whilst she laid gentle solace on her violin, letting him sit on her bed whilst he hummed along with her and chewed at whatever object she provided for him, be it a pen, pencil, and rubber objects. Klaus would sneak him packs of gummies and let Five draw all over his arms (and Klaus had told him, one day, when they were older, Five could design a tattoo for him) and let Five burrow his earphones to his MP3 player, repeating certain songs that Five could hum along to with Klaus. And Ben was always so silent and giving—with muted gestures, he would stop Five from scratching and allowed him to instead follow his rocking motions and stimulate his anxious thoughts with maths problems. Both Ben and Vanya helped make fluffernutters for him in the middle of the night and Klaus would complain the next morning for not being invited to the ‘party’. 

If Vanya were here right now, he would silently go to her room and she would understand why he was there. Maybe she’d understand more than Allison why he wanted—no,  _ needed _ that kitten. And he knew as he sat down on his bed, taking in the chalked-marked walls of his childhood bedroom, that he sounded like a spoiled little rich kid who couldn’t snatch what they desired. But their dad was dead, and Five needed someone by his side—someone who didn’t have that frighteningly real human-touch. 

The thought sent a shiver up his spine and he stumbled forth, hands gripping the edge of his windowsill. His knuckles turned white as he dug his blunt nails into the chipping paint—his breathing was going back to normal and the anxiety he was feeling was calming down. Shakily, he leaned his forehead down and rested it on the sill. The draft from the outside had him angrily slamming it shut, which resulted in the lock unable to access its job. Huffing, Five forcefully shut it again, this time pulling at the lock, successfully clasping the window.

“Alright…” He breathed slowly, willing himself to pacify his frustration. 

He should have known not to venture out with Allison. He had woken up, a tight knot lodged in his chest from the haunting feeling of ash falling on his skin and neck aching from sleeping on his desk—it was bound to be a bad day. And he couldn’t even grab that kitten. 

He should have done what Vanya had told him to do: set himself a schedule—something he could follow so he wouldn’t have to worry about impending nothingness. 

Unwilling to push his body further than it had done recently, he sat down on his bed, grabbed his notebook and began the unwarranted calculations between the Commission, their timeline (and if it  _ was _ their timeline) and the 60s timeline. It could be their timeline, but from the people they had met and the impactful destructions they had caused, there could be something out of the ordinary in their timeline. No doubt Five would have to fix that because whether he tried to deny it or not, it could cause another doomsday. 

Over ten A4 pages on both sides had been scribbled upon with numerals when there was a light knock on his door. Five ignored it in favour of stridently crossing off a miscalculation; he huffed in agitation, chewing the top of the pen off after hours of work. He didn’t realise he had started biting through the stray piece when a hand gently took the pen away from him, pulling the notebook away with it. 

“Hey, Five…” 

He looked up and found Vanya. He went to grab the pen again when Vanya shook her head, taking out something so familiar Five was surprised he didn’t blink away from her. A small chew toy was handed to him, a dark blue and new from the packet. He didn’t hesitate in taking it, but he placed it in his pocket, cheeks burning pink. 

“When did you get back?” 

Vanya sat beside him and he shuffled away. 

“A few minutes ago. Allison said—”

“I don’t care what Allison said.”

Vanya laughed. “She said you were more than a little interested in a certain kitten down the pet-shop.”

Five scoffed. “It’s stupid.”

“She also mentioned that you seemed to be going through a bit of a rough patch without … Delores.”

His cheeks burned again. He was a grown man and he couldn’t get over Delores. She had been his emotional support for so many years and even though he could easily take her back, he didn’t want to hold her down. And if a kitten was going to feel that space for him then he was willing to play the ‘poor-child’ act and beg for a kit. 

“Would you … like a cat? Five?”

He didn’t reply and pulled his knees to his chest. He stopped himself from rocking and instead found his hands scratching at his wrists. 

“Hey, come back to me,” said Vanya. 

“I’m here, Vanya,” he said testily. 

“Okay, okay…” Vanya sighed and Five felt a little bad for her. Not only two weeks ago were they testing each other's patience. 

Five knew Vanya could launch him across the room if she wanted to, and Five could easily snap her neck if he had the means to do so. The two of them together in the same room, one of them with their memories gradually fading back into existence and the other still haunted by the imminent third apocalypse. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were Vanya again. She was making him nervous.

“I think having a cat would be good,” Vanya continued gently—as if he were a child. “What would you name the cat if you got one?”

She’s acting as if he’s had  _ years _ to think about this—

“Mr. Pennycrumb,” he mumbled. 

“Interesting name,” said Vanya. “Reminds me of one of my neighbour's cats—she named him Mr. Puddles. Where’d it come from?”

Five sighed and stood up from the bed. 

“Five?”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Can I have my notepad back now?”

Vanya looked reluctant to give it back but she was smart enough to not vex him to further agitation. She knows that if he had his mind set on one thing, he will not rest until it is 1). either finished or 2). taking scheduled breaks in between. When he glanced at the time, nearing 3:30 in the afternoon, he had at least another half an hour left until he allowed himself to take a step back and reread his calculation and correct any misguided drawings. 

Begrudgingly, she handed the notebook back and he took it, skimming over her fingers. He forced himself to dislodge from the feeling of skin-against-skin and sat at his desk. 

“I have no lessons tomorrow morning.” From behind him, he could hear Vanya standing up, moving out of his room. “I’m free if you want to get that kitten.” Five didn’t reply. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

To Five’s relief, she closed the door behind her. He slid over from his wheelie chair, locked it, checked it twice and hummed in satisfaction. 

Many hours had passed and by the time he decided it was best to rest his hand from permanent strain, the sky outside was painted a clouded black. The middle of the city provided no amnesty for countless stars, but there was more than there had been in the apocalypse. Smoke trailed him for years and he feared he would never see the stars again. He might as well appreciate the polluted air for now if there were to be another doomsday. 

By now, everyone must be asleep. Vanya would have gone home by now, and when he glanced at the time on the wall, he found he had ten more minutes until midnight. Which also meant he had ten more minutes until he had to quietly sneak into his sibling's rooms, check their wrists, and repeat it two more times before he could settle down for the night, chilling at a perfect 12:15 a.m.

Should he phone Vanya? He could blink to her apartment? But that requires energy, and he hadn’t eaten much. He hadn’t the time to eat because by the time he would finish, it would surely bypass midnight. 

Five sighed irritably. His hand felt past the toy Vanya had provided him but he ignored it again in favour of waiting out the ten minutes.

The routine went well, but by the time he had settled on the third time of Klaus’ pulse, it was eleven past twelve. If Vanya had been here (like she had been for the past couple of weeks) he would have settled neatly on quarter past. 

Tears burned his eyes and he almost squeezed Klaus’ wrist too tightly. It should have woken him up, but Five saw the tell-tale sign of pills beside Klaus’ bed and knew it would take the end of the world to wake him up by then. (Or not—Klaus needed as much sleep as he could get). 

Without thinking, he brought his fingers up to his mouth and chewed. He could feel his hands shaking and he kept on telling himself to calm down. Vanya was fine. He didn’t need to check her pulse. She, like all of them, was grown up and capable of taking care of themselves. They didn’t need Five to protect them now. 

_(they don’t need you anymore)_

Five sniffed and whimpered. Beside him, Klaus groaned and he shot up, away from Klaus and stumbled from his room. The clock was a minute from quarter past and he quickly turned, shut Klaus’ door, listened for the click and repeated the motions with everyone else's door before he blinked to his room and locked it. He couldn’t remember feeling this anxious after midnight. 

He locked his door, then decided against it and unlocked it, propelling the door open into the dark hallway. He winced when his door hit the wall, and he strained his ears. There was a whisper of sheets ruffling, yet no signs of his siblings waking up and preparing for an upcoming attack. 

The clock struck quarter past and Five was quick to change into his pyjamas and lay himself in bed. 

The skin by his thumb was leaking a small trickle of red. If his dad could see him now… 

Needless to say, the sleep he had that night was dreamless for once. 

*****

“Five?”

Said boy jumped at the familiar sound of his sister’s call. Vanya appeared in the kitchen, violin case strapped to her back. 

“I’m ready when you are.”

When Five had planned his schedule for the day, he made his morning free if Vanya was still up for adopting that kitten for him. It seemed as if he had made the right choice. He didn’t say anything as he blinked, dressed accordingly, and blinked to meet her by the kitchen again. By that point she had placed her violin on the table, greeting their mum and breathing evenly when Five popped out of nowhere. 

“You ready?” Five said, admittedly a little eager. Though, Vanya didn’t need to know that. 

“Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” Grace spoke up, her eyes curious. 

“Nowhere important, Mom,” said Vanya. “Just running a few errands.”

“Are you back for lunch?”

Vanya shook her head. “I’ll be dropping Five back here and then I got a lesson at 11.”

It was currently at 9 a.m. She would be fine… How long did adopting a kitten take?

The two left the house in content silence. It was cold, winds brushing bitterly against their skins. Vanya had forced a coat onto Five (not physically) and Five grumbled at the material. It irritated his skin but he didn’t voice these complaints to Vanya. He had a sneaking suspicion she knew. 

“Have you got the toy I gave you?” Vanya said after a while. 

Five scowled. “‘S not a toy.”

Silence followed. 

“Yes, I have it.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Vanya smile. “It’s better than you chewing on pens and pencils. Those things won’t damage your teeth either.” 

Five hummed, unable to hide his red cheeks; he could mask them by the cold. 

“It’s okay, Five… Dad isn’t … here anymore. You don’t have to repress those emotions anymore.”

“They’re not so much _emotions,_ Vanya,” grumbled Five. “Just… I can’t explain it.”

From the way Vanya looked at him with such a pitiful stare, she knew more than he was letting on. He didn’t have the energy to follow her upon it. They had arrived at the pet-shop and the same lady from the day before. Five stopped, huffing out an irritated sigh. 

“What? What is it, Five?”

“You don't have to treat me like a child, Vanya,” said Five, moving away from her when her hands reached out to touch him. He looked past the lady and to the litter of kittens. The ugly one with silver and white fur was still there and as soon as he walked up to the window, the kitten opened its mouth, meowing, though Five couldn’t hear it. “This is the one."

“What if it's a girl?”

Five didn’t answer, his feet beginning to sway. 

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Vanya gestured with her head inside the shop. Five followed after her, feeling anxiety claw at his chest again. 

“Lovely to see you again,” the lady at the counter said, aiming a pointed look at Five. To his dismay, Vanya protectively stood in front of him, and if he had looked physically older, he would have scorned her. “How can I help you?”

Before Five could speak, Vanya did so for him. “We were looking for a kitten to adopt.”

Five decided it was best to let Vanya do all the talking. She showed her I.D., claiming to be, as truth be told, Five’s  older sister. The lady guided them over to the litter of kittens and picked the silver one out. It squirmed in her gentle hold and Vanya stepped back, making way for Five to hold it. Hesitantly, he held his hands out and the lady handed the creature over. Immediately, it nuzzled at his cheek, loud purrs emitting from its tiny body. 

“He likes you,” the lady observed. She was more pleasant now with the stance of Vanya shielding him. “You got a name for him?”

He didn’t answer and instead let his shaking fingers drift through the long fur. The cats added vibrations of purring willed his heart to stop its consistent hammering.

“Mr. Pennycrumb,” said Vanya. She turned to Five and nodded to him. “You look for necessities, alright? I’ll deal with the paper’s.”

Five nodded, his mind preoccupied. He suppressed a giggle when the whiskers of the kitten tickled his neck. It was content to rest on his chest with one hand under his rump and the other stroking his head. He was quick to find a cat-cage for vet visits, a blue, sparkling and foil-y fish toy and cat teaser wand—also blue to match the fish. His fingers darted across the line of collars, and a voice in his head told him it was unneeded. After all, many people disagree with the use of a collar and Five was inclined to agree with them. But there was a light blue collar with a little mouse pattern on it. There was no bell (which Five knew would irritate him to no end) and he couldn’t help with picking it up. 

“You ready to go, Five?”

Vanya appeared beside him, papers folded neatly in her backpack. The kitten on his chest had taken to kneading at his coat, and Five didn’t want to put the poor thing in the cage. But Vanya had taken it from the floor and gestured for the creature to be put in. 

The kitten didn’t put up much of a fight and Five stopped Vanya from closing the cage, quickly placing the fish plush inside to keep the little thing company. Vanya smiled, and Five saw her reach her hand up but quickly retract it from where it had been guided to his hair. 

Vanya turned and thanked the lady. She nudged Five to also grace his gratitude and he did so if only to not embarrass Vanya. When they stepped out of the pet-shop, Five holding the cage to his chest to keep an eye on his kitten before they caught a taxi, Vanya spoke.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Five smiled. It was small, but it was a smile. “No,” he said. “He’s so ugly.”

“I was thinking that.”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to call him ugly.”

Vanya laughed. “Whatever you say, Five.”

*****

Luther had gotten up late and hadn’t heard any unusual commotion from downstairs. The further he stepped, the more he could hear the odd sounds of coos, the squalls from who could only be either Allison or Klaus and the multitude of jumbled questions.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find Allison, Klaus and even Diego gathered around the middle of the table, taking turns in petting the head of a very fluffy kitten. Despite the coles, Luther would have expected Five to be making himself a coffee, even at what seemed to be nearing 10 in the morning. He was not expecting the presence of a cat that he didn’t think any of them had sole responsibility for. He stands corrected when the kitten has enough of the pets and settled itself on Five’s lap who was nursing a cup of coffee, one hand stroking the cat's fur.

Luther doesn’t think he’s ever seen Five so passive before, even with the simple touch of a cat’s fur. But he wasn’t about to destroy that moment in convincing his  little brother to give the kitten up for adoption. If it meant Five’s stable wellbeing, then who was he to reject the new addition to their family?


End file.
